Become a Fan

26 March 2008

dear chicago,

When I first moved to Illinois, I would visit you occasionally, pay
lots and lots of dollars to park my car, catch a glimpse of your shimmery dark blue lake,
shop on Michigan Avenue, eat dinner on Rush. We flirted from a
distance, you and me. I pretended to know you. But I did not know you.
You remained something of a puzzle to me, the insides of so many color-coded
parking garages, the glimmery storefronts. Without the Sears Tower in
my view I never knew which direction I was going.

But today while I was walking the not-very-scenic two miles down Chicago Ave
from the Newberry to my salon, past the Tribune building (really, what
westerly route doesn't take you past the Tribune building? That thing
is a monster), across the terrifying draw bridge and then (later, on Ogden) the
vertiginous interstate overpass, past a shrill and rather uninventive
shouting match at a bus stop--"you a punkass bitch!" "no, YOU a punkass
bitch!"--I began to realize that seven + years later, I know you so much better. And now, having eaten my way through the entire menu at the Chicago Diner, having gotten lost on foot and on bike in your north and midsections, and having learned the crucial lesson to avoid Michigan avenue altogether, I have finally pieced you together in all your complexity, and I can say with all sincerity that I love you.

Comments

dear chicago,

When I first moved to Illinois, I would visit you occasionally, pay
lots and lots of dollars to park my car, catch a glimpse of your shimmery dark blue lake,
shop on Michigan Avenue, eat dinner on Rush. We flirted from a
distance, you and me. I pretended to know you. But I did not know you.
You remained something of a puzzle to me, the insides of so many color-coded
parking garages, the glimmery storefronts. Without the Sears Tower in
my view I never knew which direction I was going.

But today while I was walking the not-very-scenic two miles down Chicago Ave
from the Newberry to my salon, past the Tribune building (really, what
westerly route doesn't take you past the Tribune building? That thing
is a monster), across the terrifying draw bridge and then (later, on Ogden) the
vertiginous interstate overpass, past a shrill and rather uninventive
shouting match at a bus stop--"you a punkass bitch!" "no, YOU a punkass
bitch!"--I began to realize that seven + years later, I know you so much better. And now, having eaten my way through the entire menu at the Chicago Diner, having gotten lost on foot and on bike in your north and midsections, and having learned the crucial lesson to avoid Michigan avenue altogether, I have finally pieced you together in all your complexity, and I can say with all sincerity that I love you.